High as a Kite

High as a Kite

You make me fly so high,

but not in the way sunlight lifts a bird.

No, you send me spinning through storms,

the string between us pulled too tight,

cutting into my hands.

I rise above the world,

the air thin, the sky cold.

You are below, smiling,

watching me dance against the wind,

while you hold the line and let me drift.

There is beauty in the height,

in the ache of the climb,

but when you let go,

the fall comes slow,

and I have time to think of every lie

that felt like love.